Born Under the Wrong Sign
by Darkness Incarnated
Summary: Monroe has never been good with kids. Especially little ones. So what's a Blutbad to do when he's stuck with a six-year-old Wesen with no Grimm world experience? Monroe has no idea.
1. Misplaced

_Well, I got this idea from watching an episode of Grimm and I hope you enjoy. I only own Cinder. _

**Born Under the Wrong Sign **

**Chapter One: Misplaced**

_{One Week Ago}_

The man studied the six-year-old whose face was contorting into that of a monster. Her hair which had once been red and thin became a much darker crimson, resembling blood. Her eyes which before were a stunning green, turned a deep, angry red. Her canines sharpened to points along with the opposite bottom teeth. Her petite ears lengthened and pointed at the ends, like an elf. Her skin became thicker and created small folds around her eyes. Her brows thickened slightly.

She then proceeded to launch herself at her father. The man laughed bitterly; putting the small child in a head lock and using his elbow to ram into the small of her back. She screamed in rage and pain as her back arched. Her little body went limp and her face consorted back to that of a humans.

"A Wesen born to a Grimm." The man muttered as he heaved the girl over his shoulder. "How cruel can fate be?" He slowly carried the little child out to the front of their shared log cabin. To his left was their Geep, and to the right was an area for cutting firewood. The father dumped her body onto the ground and dug in a box of tools for the cattle prod he used on every monstrosity he could find.

Making his way back into the house, the man shoved the prod into the fireplace and turned it, waiting for the metal to glow as red as her inhuman eyes.

Returning to his unconscious child, the man removed her pink owl shirt, not feeling a thing as he did so. He stared at her peaceful face for a moment before bringing the rod down on her stomach. He pushed harder for every ounce of anger he'd felt at this so-called God for making him to this to his baby. Making him do this to _himself_.

Her sobbing and screaming didn't register with him until the girl had grasped the burning rod between her frail hands and yanked with all of her inhuman strength. She ripped the metal from his hands and threw it, scrambling to her feet and taking off at a run with tears dripping down her face.

***/*Grimm/*/**

_{Current Day}_

An elder Blutbad walked through the forest, happily sniffing at the fresh air and enjoying the warm sunlight. The male took a long, deep breath as he stepped over a fallen log before stopping suddenly as the aroma of fresh blood hit his nostrils.

Being a Wieder Blutbad, the Wesen scrunched up his nose in disgust as he continued towards the scent. After treading through the forest for some time; the male came across the bloodied animal carcass of which had emitted the stench. The Blutbad shook his head at the mess before tuning in on another scent mixed with the blood; the scent of his kind. As if to solidify the smell; a low, animalistic growling started.

The man slowly glanced around; his brown eyes settling on a bush that happened to have two, angrily glowing red eyes. Monroe sighed. "It's okay." He said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Soon a small, animalistic head poked from the foliage. Keeping her eyes on her strange visitor; the child emerged fully.

Monroe let out a small gasp. The little girl was maybe five or six; just a baby really. She wore a brown skirt with striped and polka doted leggings. Her dark red hair was pulled into pigtails held up with hot pink hair-ribbons. Her shoes matched the color of her hair-bows and an owl necklace hung around her neck. Shockingly; the child wasn't wearing a shirt and her pale skin was scratched and bloody. But the feature that shocked the elder Blutbad the most was the wound on her stomach that looked much like a burn mark; though the design of it was hidden under the grime.

The little girl let out a small howl that made it sound like she was in pain. Monroe didn't doubt it. Taking a deep breath the male morphed into his Blutbad form and the child jerked her head back to stare into his eyes. Slowly her face turned human and she swayed on her feet. Monroe managed to catch the little girl as she fell. Her eyes, now a poisonous green, locked with Monroe's (now) brown ones. "I wanna' go home…" Tears dribbled from her eyes and down her cheeks; nestling themselves in her hairline. The child's eyes drifted shut; though her breathing kept a steady pace. Monroe shifted his grip on her and started towards his car at a run.

***/*Grimm/*/**

"Nick!" Monroe hissed into the phone; occasionally glancing at the six-year-old asleep on his couch.

"_I'm a little busy right now, Monroe. Can this wait?"_ The Blutbad looked back to the girl who moaned in her sleep.

"Not really." Monroe's voice gained a desperate tone. There was a loud snap as Nick slammed a book shut and a long sigh. Monroe could picture the Grimm pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when annoyed.

"_Then what is it?" _Monroe bit his lip in uncertainty. _"Monroe? Are you still there?" _

"Huh? Yeah… How are you with children?" There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line.

"…_Why?" _Nick responded cautiously.

"Uh… Because – " a loud wailing cut off the Blutbad. Monroe snapped his head in the direction of the little girl who was sobbing and screaming in her sleep.

"Sh, sh, sh… it's okay." Monroe held out his free hand and gently smoothed down the child's messy hair. She slowly relaxed and her breathing settled.

"_What was that, Monroe? Are you okay?" _Said Wesen slowly pulled away from the girl and took a few steps backwards before answering.

"I'm fine. Nick could you just come over? Please?" The Grimm sighed lightly.

"_I'll be right there." _The line went dead.

_That was chapter one! I'm not sure if that was good, but if you liked it please leave a comment. I'm normally really bad at updating stories, but I'm putting it to a schedule. This will be updated every Sunday unless something comes up that prevents it. R&R please! _


	2. Cinderella Naps

_Thanks so much for all the reviews! They make me so happy! *Runs around room giggling in a fangirlish manor*… Anyway… On with the chapter!_

**Born Under the Wrong Sign**

**Chapter Two: Cinderella Naps**

Monroe stood in the kitchen, clenching a beer in his hand, shifting his weight anxiously, and staring at the small red-head through the door way.

_Don't wake up, don't wake up, _please _don't wake up_, Monroe chanted in his head over and over. It was almost like a prayer to every god the Blutbad did or didn't believe in.

Much to Monroe's utter relief, the next five minutes passed with only the small ticks of his multiple clocks. And then there was knocking.

The child groaned softly and rolled over; clutching the knitted blanket Monroe had placed over her between her frail fingers, her green eyes flickering groggily. To say Monroe panicked, would have been a mild understatement.

The man had ditched his beer on the counter and was at the door, jerking it open with such speed Nick's hand was still posed in the air, before dragging said Grimm in by his extended arm.

"Monroe –!" The wolf-like man was in the kitchen once again with his free hand clasped over Nick's mouth.

"_Shh!" _He hissed. "She'll hear you!" Nick shot Monroe a glare that could've killed.

"Mmm mmmm mmmm mmm mm mmmm." Nick growled through the hand.

"What?" Said Grimm grabbed Monroe's wrist and forced it away from his mouth.

"I said, 'Get your hand off my face.'" A sheepish smile was the return.

"Sorry, but if she wakes up, with no idea where she is with two strange men next to her, the kid is going to freak. And the last thing we need is an angry, injured, scared, Blutbaden little girl rampaging around my house."

The Grimm took a step away from Monroe and pinched the bridge of his nose. As Nick opened his mouth though, he was shocked to hear a small, childish voice.

"Daddy?" Soft footsteps padded across the carpet and into the kitchen. The detective turned to see a child with red hair sticking up at odd angles, standing with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, rubbing her eyes. The hand dropped as she scrutinized the two men blankly. "You're not Daddy." She accused Monroe. "Are you mad at me like Daddy is?" She questioned idly, shifting from toe to heel. Nick glanced at Monroe.

"No, we're not mad at you. What's your name?" She yawned, scrunching up her nose in the gesture.

"Cinder." She responded, suddenly plopping down to the tile and folding her legs beneath her. "Daddy says Mommy named me Cinder for a lady who become a queen." Monroe smiled at her and crouched down.

"Do you mean Cinderella?" Cinder's eyes got wide.

"Yeah! She has a Fairy who turned a pump'in into a carriage." She pursed her lips. "I wanna' ride in a carriage." Nick smiled. What a cute kid. It was hard to image she really might have freaked out a torn apart Monroe's house.

"I'm Monroe, Cinder, and this is my friend, Nick." Nick responded by crouching as well and giving a curt wave.

Cinder winced and brought her knees to her chest, turning her eyes to Monroe, she said, "My tummy hurts, Wolfie." Nick would have laughed if the girl didn't look so pained.

"Can you give me a second, Cinder?" Cinder frowned and her bottom lip started to quiver as her face started to consort. Monroe dragged Nick to his feet. "J-just a second." The Blutbad stuttered, pulling Nick away.

"I found Cinder in the woods, Nick. She has a burn and she's all bloody. I couldn't bring her to a hospital. She's a Blutbad, and considering she's so young, she probably had no idea what's going on. She would panic. I need you to help me clean and patch her up." Nick seemed struck as he glanced at Cinder, whose quivering lip had turned to tears, leaving pale streaks on her dirty skin.

"Yeah. I'll help." Nick managed, feeling a pang of sadness for Cinder. The two males returned to the child's side.

"Cinder?" The eyes that looked up were green once more. "Can you come here? I need to see your tummy." Cinder nodded, leaving the blanket on the floor as she stood. Nick tried not to show his surprise at the fact the child wasn't wearing a shirt. The red-head approached them, sniffling.

"It _hurts, _Wolfie!" Nick crouched down and tried to see the extent of the damage. With a frown, Nick pulled away.

"Monroe." Nick sighed. "I need a washcloth or something. She's too dirty." The Grimm couldn't help but jump when a small hand took hold of his hair, gently clinging to the strands.

"Soft." Murmured Cinder.

She took to petting Nick's head well he gently started to wipe away the grime. The Grimm started at her neck and worked his way down, uncovering bloody scratches and each of her ribs. The girl looked starved. Nick clenched his teeth.

As soon as he got to her belly button, the soft stroking of Nick's hair turned into a sharp tug and a whimper. The burn.

Nick decided it would be best to clean off the rest of her stomach and avoid the area for the time being. When Cinder realized Nick had stopped fooling with the mark, she went back to petting.

A time later, rather abruptly, the feeling on his head ceased and the red-head had flopped back to the ground with a yawn. Nick sighed.

"Cinder. I need to finish." She shook her head.

"Too tired. La'er." Was the response. Monroe bit back a laugh.

"Come on, Sweetheart." The Blutbad gently ruffled Cinder's hair.

"La-ter." Cinder responded, enunciating her choice. "Later." She repeated.

"No, Cinder." Nick told her.

"Yes, Cinder." Cinder muttered, rolling over and inch-worming towards her blanket. Monroe gave Nick a helpless look and a shrug.

"Maybe we should just let her sleep, Nick. It's easier than fighting with a five-year-old who's not going to budge on her decision."

Blanket in hand, Cinder turned around, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. "I'm _six_." She told the two indignantly, holding out the number seven on her fingers.

_Not the most important chapter, but hey. I know I said Sunday, but does anyone really mind if I update early? Besides, I don't have school this week and have jack-squat to do. Hope you enjoyed, R&R! Please!_


	3. Sandwiches

_Hi. R&R. There's a lot more swearing in this chapter, just to let you guys know. The usual crap… ONWARD WITH THE STORY!_

**Born Under the Wrong Sign**

**Chapter Three: Sandwiches **

_{Uknown}_

That _brat. _He was absolutely _pissed. _Sure she had always behaved. Sure she had never given him much trouble, even after watching him lodge that bullet in her mommy's head. Cinder had never complained, never cried, never whined; hell, the girl was basically the best child a single father could ask for. But she was that… _thing. _The same thing as her mother.

That burn would be the least of that brat's problems. By far.

Her father had sworn to himself long before Cinder and him had made their lives together that if her pretty green eyes ever turned red he would show her what happened to monsters. Simple. And then the freak went and fucking _ran._

She would pay. Even if it was the last thing Eric Landen did in his life as an Endezeichen Grimm.

_{Monroe's House}_

Cinder yawned and pawed at the bandage covering her upper half. Nick, she believed was his name, had gotten his way. He had cleaned the rest of her boo-boos and applied some sort of thing that Cinder couldn't name but now knew hurt. A lot. She decided he wasn't getting anywhere near her with that stuff again.

Despite the pain inflicted, Cinder couldn't help but feel kind of bad at the cut she'd given Nick with her claws. It had bled a lot. Cinder decided she didn't like blood. It made her feel funny. Kind of sick. And it made Wolfie upset. She didn't know why exactly, but Cinder didn't like it when Wolfie was mad at her. It was like when Daddy was mad at her.

"Wo'fie?" The red-head yawned again, this time stretching her arms above her head and arching her back. No response. Cinder frowned and untangled herself from Wolfie's blanket, swinging her legs over the side of the couch. With the absentmindedness only a child could pass off, Cinder noticed her boots weren't on anymore.

Cinder shivered and looked reproachfully back at the blanket. She bit her lip before reaching back and tugging it from the couch and wrapping it around her shoulders, grateful of the warmth.

"Wolfie?" Still nothing. Something stirred in Cinder's stomach and her lip started to quiver. "Nick?" Silence. This wasn't funny. Not at all. The girl moved into the kitchen, only finding two glass bottles on the counter. Cinder started to cry. She dropped onto her butt and sobbed.

"W-Wolfie?!" She cried hysterically. A door creaked. Cinder's head shot up. The front door. The one next to her couch. "Wo-olfie?!" She screamed, stumbling to her feet, leaving her blanket on the floor and charging into the living room. Wolfie stood with his back to her, closing the door and locking it.

"Wo-olfie!" Cinder hiccupped, making a run for the older Blutbad. Monroe turned just in time to see a ball of fur barreling into his stomach.

"Oof! C-Cinder? Hey," Monroe said softly, kneeling. "What's the matter?" The child had her arms wrapped around his neck and her head nuzzled under Monroe's neck.

"I-I'm sorry-y Wolfie! I-I thought y-you left 'c-cause you were mad-d at me like D-Daddy was! I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Wo-olfie!" Monroe was shocked into silence.

"I-I'm not mad, Cinder. Shh, hey, it's okay. It's okay, shh." Wolfie gently stroked her hair.

Cinder hesitantly pulled away. "Y-you're not m-mad?" The tears had stopped.

"I'm not mad. It's all good." Monroe gave her a goofy smile only he could pull off. "I was just talking to Nick outside before he went to work. That's all."

"Good." Monroe stood only to find the red-head still latched to his neck, now dangling in the air. "I'm hungry, Wolfie." Cinder mumbled, her words muffled through Monroe's shirt.

"Uh, ok, yeah. What do you want?" Gently, Monroe tucked his arm under Cinder's bottom and unattached her arms.

"Peanut butter." The older Blutbad nodded to himself. He had that. He could do peanut butter.

"On bread, Cinder?" The small child pulled her head away from his shirt and gave Monroe a look that said she questioned his sanity.

"Yeah. Only half. I can't eat the whole one."

"Okay. I'll get your sandwich. Why don't you sit on the couch?"

"M'kay." Monroe set the girl down and she smiled up at him. Her eyes were still red and puffy. Cinder walked into the kitchen, retrieved her blanked, and made her way to the couch.

A few minutes later, Monroe emerged from the kitchen holding half a sandwich with peanut butter and glass of apple juice he was surprised to find in his fridge. Cinder had shoved it in her mouth with remarkable speed and mumbled a muffled 'thanks' through her bite.

When the red-head had finished scarfing the sandwich ravenously, followed by her drink, she turned so her back faced Monroe and lay down. Monroe blanched but didn't move.

"Story, Wolfie?" He shrugged and thought about the Grimm stories his mom had told him.

"Sure."

"Cinderella. Do you know Cinderella?" Monroe nodded and started the story with a small smile.


	4. Bath Time, Anyone?

_Sorry I missed a week peoples, but I had that stupid stomach bug that's been going around, and I'm fairly sure, had I tried to type, I would have puked on my laptop. And nobody wants that. So now, here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy, thanks for the reviews, and please review again!_

**Born Under the Wrong Sign**

**Chapter Four: Bath Time, Anyone? **

Monroe watched Cinder as she slept, her dainty fingers clutched around his hand and her wild, red hair fanned out, having long since come out of their pigtails.

_Do all little kids sleep like this? This often? _Monroe wondered to himself as he thought about how much the six-year-old had been out in the past day. A day. It was hard to imagine Cinder had been in his house only a day, it honestly felt as if it had been much longer.

The child suddenly whimpered; bringing Monroe's eyes back down to her face. Cinder's grip tightened on his fingers with much more strength than your average six-year-old. Her face turned animalistic and she cried out, the noise sounding more like a gurgled growl than a sob. Another nightmare. Maybe that's why she slept so often, because every time she tried, she had bad dreams.

"Shh, Cinder. It's okay." Monroe murmured, rubbing his free hand through her hair. The small hands loosened and Cinder blearily opened her eyes, blinking as her face shifted back.

"Wo'fie." Cinder sighed contently and stretched, arching her back like a cat and reaching her arms above her head. Monroe doubted she remembered whatever the nightmare had been about. "I wanna' take a bath, Wolfie. My hair smells funny." She sat up and dangled her legs over the edge of the sofa.

Monroe blanched. "Y-you can take one by yourself, right?" Cinder pursed her lips at him.

"Duh, Wolfie. I'm _six_, 'member?" Monroe let out an indiscreet sigh of relief. The older Blutbaden didn't even stay in the room as Nick had cleaned and bandaged her, so, giving the child a bath, when she was _fully_ naked… He couldn't do that. No _way_. "You jus' have to set the water."

"Okay. I can do that." Cinder gave him a look that said _really? _"You want to take one now?" The red-head nodded. "Okay."

Cinder jumped to the floor and Monroe led her into the bathroom, set the water, had Cinder make sure it was okay, and started to leave. "Wolfie." She deadpanned. Monroe turned around. "Need a towel."

"Oh, yeah." Monroe disappeared and retrieved a towel from the hall closet before giving it to Cinder. "Good?" She nodded.

"Can you undo the white thingies? I can't reach." Monroe unhooked her bandages and helped Cinder unravel them.

"Thanks, Wolfie!" The child beamed. "You can go now." Monroe went, leaving the door slightly ajar with a comment of: "Call me if you need anything."

Cinder stripped herself of the dirt-ridden clothes and pulled herself over the lip of the bathtub, into the water, with a squeak of joy. The liquid felt good. Especially on her boo-boo's.

The little girl washed her hair and gingerly scrubbed her body down, feeling much better and giggling at all the dirt in grime that swirled in the water. After content with her cleanliness, Cinder struggled from the tub and retrieved her towel from the sink, leaving watery footprints in her wake.

The red-head dried off and swaddled herself in the towel, basking in the warmth, despite the dampness.

"Wolfie?" Cinder called as she padded into the living room. Monroe wasn't on the couch, so Cinder ventured past the kitchen and down the hallway, finding Wolfie in a room with many clocks ticking at different frequencies. "Woah." She muttered.

Wolfie looked up from the wooden object he was holding and Cinder noted the glasses, which he pulled off as he set down the clock. "This is really cool, Wolfie! They're pretty." Monroe laughed and stood.

"What'd you need?" He asked her, knowing the girl would travel off on a rant if he didn't get back to the topic at hand, which would currently be the six-year-old dripping in his Clock Room, dressed in a towel.

"Oh. Clothes." Cinder responded, licking her lips and continuing to stare around in awe.

Monroe blanched. What kind of clothes did he have that a little kid could wear? "A big t-shirt's okay. That's what daddy lets me wear after baths."

"O-okay." Monroe left and Cinder wandered deeper into the room, watching the clocks happily. The older male returned and handed Cinder a shirt he had grown too small for, but would probably work for her. The little girl dropped her towel and Monroe spun around quickly, his cheeks flaming. Cinder tugged the shirt over her head.

"Kay, Wolfie." Monroe turned back around, albeit hesitantly, and took in Cinder's new appearance. The shirt was huge. The sleeves came to her elbows, thought the collar was small enough it stayed on her shoulders and Cinder's toes poked out from under the hem. She twirled and didn't seem to mind. "Can you comb my hair?" Monroe nodded and the child picked up her towel before sprinting into the living room and jumping onto the couch. Monroe followed, retrieving a brush from the bathroom counter, studying the mess half-heartedly and deciding to clean it up later, he returned and sat down, letting Cinder sit on his lap and comb out her locks.

As a last second decision, Monroe pulled her mane into a ponytail and retrieved one of Cinder's hair ribbons, bowing it in her hair. Cinder grinned up from her place and Monroe smiled back. It was infectious.

"I'm going to go clean up the bathroom, Cinder. You can watch T.V. When I'm done though, I've got to rewrap your tummy, okay?" Cinder nodded, turned on the television, and was happily watching Dora as Monroe left to clean.

***/*Grimm/*/**

Monroe entered the room in about ten minute's time, holding his hand out for Cinder's towel. The girl frowned at him.

"What?" Monroe wanted to laugh at her expression.

"I need the towel. It's going to get the couch all wet."

"Oh. You should'a just _said _that." The child retorted, tossing the towel and going back to her show. "Swiper no swiping!" She yelped as Monroe went to hang the damp apparel up. He smiled at the words.

As he moved back into the living room, Monroe saw Cinder intently watching Dora point to a red truck and say, "The truck is rojo. Can you say rojo?" Cinder squealed and nodded frantically.

"Rojo!" Monroe laughed again.

"We have to fix your bandages, okay?" Cinder nodded absentmindedly and the older Blutbad handed Cinder her skirt. "You have to put that on, when we're done with the bandages you can put the shirt back on." The red-head nodded and Monroe left, knowing she would strip and using the excuse to retrieve the bandages and antiseptic.

"Okay, Wolfie." Cinder called from the other room. Monroe returned and dropped everything.

"Oh my God." He murmured; his eyes wide.

"What's wrong?" Monroe didn't answer.

"Oh my God." He repeated, fumbling with pulling his cellphone from his pocket and dialing Nick's number.

The burn held an unmistakable likeness to the Sterbestunde, and nothing good came with that mark. Ever.

_Ta-da! If you look at the cover, the Sterbestunde is the picture on there._


End file.
